


The Ones We Left Behind

by Dvntknsn



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Brainwashing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Loss, Memory Loss, Not Canon Compliant, Time hop, Violence, in progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dvntknsn/pseuds/Dvntknsn
Summary: 'We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when,But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day...Keep smiling through, just like you always do,'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.'I don't own any Marvel characters - only my own.Tags will be added as story progresses





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remaking the story - I hit a rut, and here's where I ended up. Some repeat content, but greatly reformatted, with a lot of additions.

2016

 

She sat on the balcony overlooking the bustling square, her coffee long since lost its warming quality. The breeze swept across her bare arms, sharp chill grounding her to the present. Her stormy eyes cleared up to bring her focus darting to the sound of a man running, the quick pounding on the cobble ground echoing over the sounds of the dull clattering of the square. One set of footsteps, from an adult – body mass likely male. She found him quickly moving through the crowd, his eyes darting backwards so often – eyes wild with fear. She was well acquainted with that look, a sinking in her gut reminded her of that familiarity. She tried to follow his gaze, landing on an empty news booth – newspapers, candy bars, nothing that would be worth robbing, except by maybe some children. A man in a baseball cap caught her eye, he seemed out of place, slightly unshaven – confused look in his eyes. She stood, leaning on her rail curiously watching as he picked up a discarded newspaper – confusion quickly replaced by terror. Not the same terror the fleeting owner displayed – no, this was different. He looked over both of his shoulders before shoving the paper into his coat pocket and swiftly moving out of the square. The hair raised on the back of her neck, her heart rate beginning to rise as she felt drawn to this man, a since of recognition that gave her a sense of responsibility to help. She slipped quickly into a pair of joggers and hoodie, pulling a beanie over her strawberry blond curls she had pulled into a low ponytail. She ran down the stairs of her apartment building, sound of her normally stealthy footsteps against the metal stairs seemingly blaring against her ears. She flew out the fire door which jarringly slams against the wall behind it unhindered. She looked the direction she saw the man fleeing – closing her eyes, she felt the air around her still, filtering through all the background noise the square offered, she could still pick out the fleeting footsteps of the exceptionally large man. She takes off in a quick paced jog in the direction of the footsteps, before reaching an abandoned apartment complex at the edge of town. She yanked open the back entrance, which creaked loudly in protest. She cringed as she scolded herself, the obtrusive noise leaving an aching in head. She made a point of taking the stairs up two at a time, much lighter than she had in her own apartment building. She wasn’t sure which floor the man would be on, if he was even here at all. She didn’t stop at any of the four floor entrances, her feet taking her all the way to the top. She felt a kindred connection with this man, and like her, he would find refuge in the highest point of the building, farthest from the entrance.  She always thought that was because she felt there was more privacy there, but now she can see that he has now had the time it took her to climb the 5 flights of stairs, and move down the hall, to escape – or plan his defense. She suddenly became aware that she just followed a potentially dangerous man back to his hiding place – to his evil lair. Her heartbeat louder in her ears as she got closer to the last door at the end of the hall. Images flashed through her head, the images that keep her closed off from the rest of the world. She’s been here before, she stops in her tracks right as her hand landed on the knob. She closed her eyes, pushing through all the blurry, fast moving images whirling through her head. She slowly twisted the knob and opened the door, moving into the dark, wet smelling room. She released the breath she was holding in when she found the room to be empty. She moved farther into the room, batting away the small feeling that she was being watched. The layer of dust that cast a layer over all of the surfaces struck an unusual feeling in her, out of place almost, or maybe not quite right? She drew her hand across the countertop, thin layer of dust coming from maybe a month without cleaning in a building this dilapidated. Flashes of glasses, whiskey on the rocks, on that counter, slid with no regard crashing to the ground as she was hoisted to sit in their place. She squeezes her eyes shut as she suddenly feels nauseous. She has been getting flashes of memories for months, but never as clear or long as that. She gripped the counter to maintain her balance slightly as she tried to still her breathing.

 

“I know you,” the voice appearing from behind her, raspy and uncertain. She instantly knew the owner was the man she followed here, uncertainty in his voice mirroring the look in his eyes. A small wave of calm was sent through her, slowing her heart rate. She felt a sigh escape her lips, and she slowly spun on her heels to meet the eyes of the man she stalked. There seemed to be a hurricane of emotions behind his blue eyes, the darkened puffiness beneath them showed the sleep loss that hurricane cost him. She was familiar with the internal storm that tears you from your sleep. She felt herself focusing harder on his individual features, studying him intently. Furrow of his brows as he seemed to be studying her just as hard as she was him. Small lines on his face, remnants of smile lines, she catches herself wondering what that smile would look like, a small warmth building in her gut at the thought of his smile. He had broad set shoulders – and a posture of someone with great power, so either a soldier or something darker. Her eyes meet the one gloved hand, and her eyes dart to his other hand noting that it was bare. She cocked an eyebrow in confusion, and brought her eyes back to his. She didn’t recognize him, which was even more unsettling. Her whole being seemed to relax in his presence – whereas every man, woman and child she’s encountered in the last 6 months has put her on high alert. Something about him felt comforting, felt familiar, felt… right. She could tell from the fact that his brow had not unfurrowed that he still didn’t recognize her fully yet either. Maybe he was getting the same familiar feeling she is decoding right now that made him assume he should know her. He opened his mouth, about to speak again, when both of their attention was forced to the sound of someone ascending the stairs to the floor. Fear flashed over his face, and her instincts to fight whoever coming this direction kick in, and she reached for the blade tucked into her waist band.

 

“No, you need to go. Don’t come back here, they’re here for me. You don’t need to be here”, he stated, coldly. The words, inherently protective, sounded robotic coming from him. The need to be protective of her there, but the reason for the protectiveness absent, the caring absent. She took pause to look at him again, his face had relaxed more – he looked defeated, prepared to surrender. Exhausted, emotionally and physically. She felt herself reach out and touch his arm, and as she turned to head out the window she felt herself stop. She stood up on her tip toes, close to his ear

“Be safe, mo mhuirnín,” she heard a hitch in his breath as his eyes darted to the side to look at her. Moving away from him, she slid her hand down his arm, relishing the feeling of familiarity she got by touching him. She breathed him in for one more moment before she heard the first knock on the door. His attention snapped to the obtrusive sound, and she was gone by the time he looked back over to where she once stood.

 

The front door slowly opened, revealing Steve in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the shortness - but I just needed to get this started again.


	2. Chapter 2

1941

“Hopefully they still let us graduate next week when they find out we ditched school,” She mused, running her fingers through the grass. The blades felt cool between her fingertips, and she plucked one – Bucky’ silence overtaking the situation. She sat up and looked at him, he looked completely lost in thought staring out into the distance, so she began picking at the blade of grass in her lap. Her and Bucky hadn’t spent nearly any time alone in their friendship, Steve was nearly always there. Their time alone consisted of short moments that Steve had stepped away for something. Her anxiety started to rise, she never had difficulty talking to him before, but now there seems to be a weight on them. His most recent argument with Steve seems to be bothering him, and she isn’t sure she should ask about it or let him talk to her if he wants to.

He interrupts her internal debate – “What do you plan to do after graduation, doll?” She rolled her eyes at the endearment, but her reaction caused a smile to breach his hardened expression, if even for a moment.

“I don’t know, James,” she responded through a sigh, “I can’t see myself leaving here”, she answered.

He brought his gaze to hers, more solemn this time, “You can’t stay there Ana.” She swallowed the lump in her throat that appeared as her words hit her. She could feel her hands start to shake as she took a deep breath and shook her head.

She feigned a smile, “I can’t leave my mother, she’d be all alone. I am all she has.” She heard Bucky scoff as he looked back to the lake. She looked over at him, attempting to look insulted at his reaction, but he ignored her facade. She too began to watch the water, ripples spreading from fish hitting the surface.

“I wish I could protect you..” He admitted, eyes narrowing. “Like I protect Steve, he gets himself into trouble, and I am there to get him out of it. Keep him safe, and minimally harmed,” he continued, meeting her stare. She sat there, mouth slightly agape at his admission, but not sure how to respond, so he kept on. “I don’t even know what trouble you’re fighting Ana, I just know that house isn’t good for you. Every time you walk out of the door I can see the fight drained from you, and I have to work to put it back in you. It hurts me every time we get to your door and I have to watch you go back in. It’s like I’m sending you off to the boxing ring with your hands tied behind your back.”

Ana grasped her thoughts again, closing her eyes and mouth and shaking her head. “Bucky you misunderstand, I am fine, there’s nothing wrong with my house, I have no idea where you got such an ide-“she says with a smile, obviously Bucky could see through since he interrupted her.

“She hurts you Ana.” His eyes stern, and he crawled on his knees to sit in front of her.  Still shaking my head, I refuse to look up at him, “Bucky, she has never laid a hand on me. Yes, she’s stern, but she wants me to be safe. Don’t all mothers want that of their kids? I’m fine there,” She looks up at him and attempts another smile to convince him. His expression doesn’t change, but he is looking into her eyes like he was trying to read a map. No, like he was trying to memorize a map he would only see that once. His grey blue eyes, she never noticed the dark blue and green specks that surround his cornea. She can hear his breathing, slow and deep, almost as if he was attempting to slow his own racing heart.

He hasn’t spoken in what seems like hours, but he still hasn’t broken eye contact. “You know whenever you’re ready, you can tell me, right?” he finally responds, memorization shifting to what looked more like adoration.

“James, if there was anything to tell, I would tell you.” she whispered, quieter than she had meant to, moving a piece of hair that had fallen from my braid, breaking eye contact. She could still feel his eyes on her for a moment before he stood up and held a hand out to her. She took it, and stood – the ground colder on her feet then she remembered. She paused to put her shoes on, and he places his hand at the small of her back guiding them back home. They walked in silence most of the way back, but a comfortable quiet. He didn’t move his hand from her back until they had reached their block – she didn’t notice how comforting it was to have him touch her until it was noticeably absent, and the anxiety began to set in. It was way passed 3 o’clock, the sun had already begun to set meaning it was closer to 7 o’clock.

She stalled when she reached the stairs to her house, and glanced back at James. He gave a reassuring smile and tipped his head willing her to go inside, surely not wishing her to get in any worse trouble. He walked up the stairs to Steve’s neighboring house at the same pace she took up the stairs – as if he didn’t want her to walk inside alone. She could feel her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Ana, you are the strongest person I know.” She heard Bucky say as the door knob turned in her hand and swung open revealing her mother. She must have heard her outside, the woman had hawk like hearing, and she grabbed her arm and yanked her in, but not before she could see Bucky squeeze his eyes shut and look away before his image was lost by a slamming door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos & Comments please! <3


	3. Chapter 3

1945

 

 

It was cold where she was. The room she was in had concrete floors, cinderblock walls, and a metal door. Grey, frigid, desolate – quite fitting for the life she had been enduring the past 83 days. She had snuck in a rock from the first and only time she was allowed outside, and begun to mark the sleep cycles she’s had since that day. She has no real other way of marking the passage of time, she gets one meal a day and she’s not sure which meal that is, but it seems to be lunch. She also has no real way of knowing how long she had been there before she started counting – she had apparently been unconscious for some length of time, and the events before waking had been fuzzy at best. She remembered a fight with her mother, although not a rare occurrence and may have occurred way before the black out. She remembers meeting a man, a man who was supposed to ‘help’ her. Her mother, the compassionate woman that she was, did not find her daughters grief to be appropriate. She felt a tightening in her chest at the thought. She remembered Mrs. Rogers wail, it resonated through her head as if it was happening in that moment. She had seen the men in uniform walk up to her house, no one visited Mrs. Rogers except her since the boys had been deployed. She had heard of the house calls the uniformed men made when a soldier was lost in action. She watched from her place at the front garden, careful to not make it obvious she had an interest in what the men were saying – mama would not have her eavesdropping, it just was not proper. The men spoke quietly, soothing whispers, as one man reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head vehemently, and she could make out the word ‘no’ as she repeated it over and over, before collapsing on the ground. She had spent the next week checking the paper before she found it, the column they had put in the paper thanking him for his sacrifice. His name was just another in a long list of lost souls that the war had claimed. ‘James Buchannan Barnes’, nothing more, nothing less. Her eyes had found that name so easily, but could not seem to be moved. The curves of the ink started to lose meaning, the imperfections in the printing seemed insulting to such a beautiful name. She didn’t cry, all emotion seemed lost to her, and she returned to her daily activities without much fuss. But nothing goes unnoticed by mama.

 

Mama claimed the man to be her cousin, however, she hadn’t met any of her mother’s family. They claimed to be unaccepting of her mother marrying an Irishman, although, she always thought there was more to the story that her mother wasn’t saying. The man spoke with a thick Russian accent, his presence had given her an uneasy feeling from the beginning.

 

“My name is Dr. Maximoff, but you can call me Ivan. We are family, are we not?” he stated cooly, slight chuckle as he gestured to the arm chair across from his. His smile slowly fading as Anastasia didn’t immediately take up his offer to sit.

 

“Anastasia, sit”, her mother barked. She slowly sat in the chair, eyes never leaving the man.

 

“I see you have your mothers general distrust of others, that may do you well,” he commented. “However, you will have to learn to trust your superiors, or that may put you in a bad place, ptichka.” The nickname got her attention, her mother had not called her that since shortly before her parents’ divorce. Little bird, her father told her it meant, he had said it was what her grandfather called her mother before he died. Her grandmother, like her mother, took the loss of her husband hard and became a much more callus person. The kind of person that would apparently disown their daughter when they married someone they didn’t approve of. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree did it?

 

“Trust my superiors?” she questioned – the term seeming unusual to her in the moment.  

 

“Yes, your elders. In our culture, it is customary for the elders of the family to choose the path of our children. It causes less pain if those children follow the words of the elders instead of rebelling against them,” he asserted, a look of shame coming over her mother’s face.

 

“You will come with me, ptichka, you have begun to worry your mother with your attachments to unworthy people. She does not believe you have the discipline to be able to go out into the world on your own, so we will help to teach you how to bring honor to your family.” She looked to her mother, for the first time she saw sadness in her mother’s eyes, shame, and fear. When she noticed her daughter looking to her, she feigned a smile, willing the tears to not spill from her eyes. Anastasia nodded, her instincts to prevent whatever pain she seemed to be causing her mother.

 

She now scoffed at that instinct, her mother obviously caring very little about her own daughter, sending her to this place. For the first couple weeks, she had a little glimmer of hope that her mother would come for her, that she didn’t know their plans for her and that when she found out she would rescue her. That glimmer quickly faded with the days, and the only thing Ana could tell herself was that her mother was fully aware where they were bringing her, what they would be doing to her, and that the shame and sadness were left over from her own disowning, and that she was willing to trade her own daughter to right her own wrong doings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & Kudos please! <3 Any help/opinions help!


	4. Chapter 4

1945

 

She wasn’t sure what had happened during the time she was blacked out, memories keep flickering back in pieces. Doctors, bright lights, metal table, screaming, blinding pain. She would be convinced it was all just a terrible dream if there was not a faint scar travelling from her sternum to just above her pelvis. The scar, however, was much different than any of her other scars. She had many scars from many punishments that she had earned from mama, but those were still puffy, white and shiny. This new addition would be almost unnoticeable to anyone not as familiar with her body as she is. She wasn’t sure what they did to her, and she had no one to ask in the 87 days since she’s been in this room and starting to regain any sort of memories. She had been trying to remember why they let her outside then, and have not even shown their faces to her in 87 days. She thinks they were transferring her, she briefly remembers getting out of a van, the cold waking her to the world. The man walking with her, masked, left her momentarily to open the door to a large, industrial looking building, covered in snow and blocked by many trees. In his absence, she looked around for anything that could be possibly helpful, fight instincts fully engaged. She found a rock, small, dull, but that was the only thing she found before the man turned back to her and guided her into the building. The door behind her sealed like a vault, dim lights illuminating the long hallway in front of her. 23 doors between her and that exit. She spent the first 10 days trying to get the metal door of her room open. Besides the fact that there was no handle on her side, the door was almost completely flush with the wall – a minute crack between the metal and the cinderblocks to tell that there’s even a door at all. A small slot at the bottom opened enough for a tray of food to be slid to her, slice of white bread, apple, and some sort of jam. As well as a cup with 2 pills in it that Ana never took. She had a stock pile of them in her pillow case, she wasn’t sure what they were for, but she didn’t want to risk losing awareness of her surroundings. She was also given one water bottle a day, but her only bathroom was one she’d designated herself in the corner farthest from her bed. She’d all but gotten used to the smell, her embarrassment over having to go to the bathroom out in the open gone.

 

By day 127 Ana had stopped eating for 10 days, resolving herself to one sip of water when the thirst became unbearable. She figured they were watching her somehow, so it would only be a matter of time they would send someone in to make her eat, or they would let her die. Either way, she needed the chance to escape – death being as good escape as any. She didn’t think she looked as emaciated as she should after 10 days starvation, and 127 days of barely any movement. Her arms and legs looked slender, her muscles not as tough as they once had been, but certainly not withered away. She felt more weak and tired than her body looked – she could only imagine what her face looked like. She could feel her cheek bones more pronounced than they had been – and she could feel large puffy bags under her eyes. Her hair was matted and tangled, dry and splitting at the ends but greasy near her scalp, although not much longer than when she’d arrived, probably from malnourishment.

 

 

Day 130 was when they finally sent someone in to her, she didn’t move from bed for 2 days, and hadn’t allowed herself any water. She pretended to be asleep, plotting how she could run passed the man, hoping that them sending someone to keep her alive means that they wouldn’t have her killed if she tried to escape. He got about a foot from her bed before she made her move, she quickly pushed herself out of bed, the element of surprise on her side, and she swiftly was able to kick the legs out from under the man, him landing on his back and knocking the wind straight out of him with a groan. She was out of the room before his back had even hit the floor, her bare feet slapping against the ground as she ran faster than she ever had in her life. She reached the vaulted door faster than she thought she would. She quickly analyzed it before realizing it had a keypad system that required some string of digits to open the door. Hearing voices shouting orders behind her, she knew she didn’t have time to begin trying to guess the code, and she definitely wasn’t strong enough to blow the door open. Just as she was trying to assess a plan B, she heard an explosion on the other side of the door – followed by the sound of alarms going off from further inside the compound. The door shuddered again against the sound of a second explosion, weakening its resolve. She stepped back away from the door, slowly, but had gotten far enough away that when it fell in after the third explosion it landed at her feet. She looked up as men swarmed the base with guns, and she was being yelled at in English. The words sounded almost foreign to her, she had only been spoken to in Russian since she left home, and not spoken to at all while she was put into solitary. She was handcuffed and drug off by the uniformed men, guns pressed into several of her body parts, and hoisted into a Humvee. The men kept getting in her face asking for her name, where she was from, what she was doing at the base, if she was a prisoner. The questions were blurring together, as everything was happening so fast. Finally, she felt the handcuffs release, and she stretched her shoulders slightly, sighing in relief. Her joints seem to be stiff, probably from the lack of movement, so being restrained was more uncomfortable than she’d imagined it would be normally. The Humvee had stopped, and most of the men had exited the vehicle, except one. He kneeled in front of her and looked up at her with soft eyes.

 

“My name is Timothy Dugan, ma’am. I am real sorry about the restraints back there, you seemed to be in some sort of trance, and knowing the people who were holding you.. Well we couldn’t take any chances that you were going to turn into some crazy killing machine,” he apologized. She finally made eye contact with his, she could feel the coldness in her stare, but she couldn’t help it. His look was warm, even through his tired eyes you could see the wrinkles by his eyes showing the large amount of laughter and smiles in his lifetime. She wondered what the lines on her face showed others. She felt a hand on her knee and her glare shifted to his hand gently placed there – a sign of comfort. His hand, covered in what looked like gunpowder mixed with dirt, seemed as if he hadn’t had a good shower in months. She returned her gaze to his eyes again, more inquisitive now, probably trying to gauge her threat level – to see if she needs to be restrained again. Then it hit her, these were American troops. Steve, it would be a long shot if they knew him, but maybe they could get a message to him. He would come for her if he knew where she was – more than she trusted her mother to rescue her.

 

“Do you-” she stopped to clear her throat, her voice raspy from lack of use. “Do you know Steven Grant Rogers? I, uhm, I don’t know which unit he’s in, or where he is, he could never tell me in his letters, but I –” the look on his face made her stop rambling - he looked straight near tears.

He cleared his own throat, swallowing the sadness she saw well up in his eyes before he spoke again. “I am so sorry ma’am. Captain Rogers, he.. he was lost in action about a month ago, I am so sorry. “ She felt his grip on her knee tighten slightly, and it felt as though he just kicked her square in the stomach. The war took the two most important people in her life, not wanting to leave Steve all by himself was her one thing grounding her to this life. Anytime she felt like she wanted to give up, she pictured Steve and his mother, having lost what could only be described as a brother, and then finding out the girl who had been his neighbor and only other friend was gone too? Steve was strong, but she felt like that could break anyone’s resolve. She felt it breaking her own resolve right now. She was feeling exactly what she wanted to prevent him from feeling – alone. No one was out there looking for her, no one cared if she was alive or dead, she was officially alone.

 

“Ma’am?” she heard Dugan ask. She felt her cheeks become wet, and she realized her vision had become blurry. She reached up to touch her eyes, wiping the tears she found away.

 

“Ma’am, here, here’s some water, and a hankercheif. I’m sorry if it’s dirty ma’am, it’s just all I got,” he fumbled, a crying woman obviously making him highly nervous. She chuckled, the noise foreign to her ears. The man is a soldier, but her crying made him nervous. She laughed even harder at that. She laughed at how messed up her life had become, and soon she just could not stop her laughter. Dugan, sat back a little, unsure of how to handle the womans unusual fit, only slightly less confused on how to handle this versus her crying, and settled slightly only when her laughter began to subside a few minutes later.

 

“Please stop calling me ma’am, Mr. Dugan,” she finally spoke, wiping the tears remaining on her cheeks.

 

“Fine, as long as you never refer to me as ‘Mr. Dugan’ ever again, that’s my old man – not me,” he chuckled, relieved that she was actually talking again. “Let’s try this again, my friends call me Dum Dum,” he reached his hand out to shake hers.

 

She laughed at the insulting nickname he had presented himself, “They don’t sound like very nice friends there, Mr Du- I mean, Dum Dum,” she nearly had to force the words out of her mouth, and felt a blush come to her cheek. She was definitely not accustomed to speaking to many people – and only ever became accustomed to speaking to Steve and Bucky beyond niceties. It was foreign, and felt almost wrong, to speak to someone of high regard such as a soldier, in any other way but the most polite ways possible. She had to shake that feeling off her – that was her mothers training ingrained in her. The man has asked you to call him this nickname – it would be insulting to not follow his request. She smiled weakly and extended her own hand to his.

 

“My friends called me Ana,” she gripped his hand and shook it a couple times before pulling away. Her stomach sank when her words hit her – her friends – she had no friends. Her friends were dead. She shook that thought from her, not wanting to make Dum Dum uncomfortable again by crying.

“Nice to meet you Ana, now who can we send a message to to let them know you’re okay? We will also need to know where we can fly you to to get you home,” he reported, decidedly returning to protocol now that he had deemed her to not be a threat. She went to respond, but closed her mouth sharply, biting her lip. She was sure whoever was holding her would tell her mother that she had escaped, they surely would be sending people to find her and return her. They wanted her alive for one reason or another – and her mother would most definitely not keep her away from them.

 

“I need you to do the exact opposite of that, Dum Dum,” she finally responded. He looked slightly flabbergasted by what she had said, running through how he should respond before finally just landing on “Excuse me, ma’am?”.

 

“Ana, we decided we’d be friends, remember? And as my friend Dum Dum, I need you to send notification that your unit had found and rescued me, but due to injuries I had died in transit, and your doctors were unable to resuscitate, or whatever you have to say,” she implored. Her eyes pleading with him, he looked back towards his unit – probably making sure no one could hear her request, before he reluctantly nodded his head.

 

“You must’ve had a rough home life, Ana, if you’d rather your family think you died out here than go home. I can’t imagine my family thinking I’d died,” he breathed, sighing softly before turning to leave. “Anywhere you’d like to be taken to?” he offered, stopping before hopping out of the truck.

 

“Depends, where are we now?” she quipped, pulling at the hem of the hospital gown she was now painfully aware she was still wearing.

 

“About halfway between Moscow and the border of Ukraine. About 40 miles from any real civilization,” he answered.

 

“I think I need to make it on my own for a little bit, figure out how this new life is going to work out. And I think to do that, I need to do it alone,” she gave him a half smile, and he responded with a nod.

 

“I’ll get you some warmer clothes, and a pack with necessities that will get you through a couple weeks. You’ll probably need to make it to a city eventually, winter is right around the corner, and it becomes even more hellish here than it already is.” She watched as he turned and hopped out of the truck. She felt something she hadn’t felt in a very long time, if ever, like a weight had been lifted from her – freedom, she felt free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/Comments! Let me know what you think! <3  
> xx


	5. Chapter 5

1941

 

She once again awoke with a pit in her stomach. She instantly sat up, instinctively pulling her arms and legs to her chest, letting out a sign of relief when she had full control of her extremities. Her head instinctively towards the direction of the window, as she heard a clink realizing that must’ve been the sound that woke her. Grabbing her clock, she used the dim lights filtering in from the street to read the time – 3:45am. She heard the clink again, now sure it wasn’t her imagination. She returned the clock back to her bedside table, and slowly crept towards the window, avoiding all the known creaky floor boards in her path. She moved a small corner of the curtain just enough to peek outside, but not enough to notify anyone outside that she was at the window. She heard her pulse slow in her ears, as she let out the breath she realized she was holding when she saw a figure that she quickly recognized as Bucky poised to toss another pebble at the window, then hurriedly hiding behind a bush – assumingly to watch for her to investigate the sound. Pulling open her drapes, she struggled to hold back her giddy expression. Bucky didn’t reveal himself immediately, and her face all but fell into a frown. After several minutes of waiting, she placed a hand on the window over where the bush was in her vision before slowly stepping back and closing the curtain. She leaned against the wall next to the window and let out a sign, sliding down till she was no sitting and holding her knees to her chest. She ignored the burn in her side the newest addition to the collection of scars gifted by her mothers ‘lessons’, and began pondering this strange occurrence.  Maybe she should tell him what’s going on, he was obviously worried about her - or this was some elaborate prank so that she would be tired tomorrow and he could outrun her on our physical exam tomorrow afternoon. She argued with herself for several more minutes about the visits meaning, before sighing and laying her head on her knees. She didn’t know that she had fallen asleep until the sound of songbirds filled her ears, and once again she jerked awake – squeezing her eyes back shut at the sunlight filling the room. She opened one eye long enough to peek at the curtain, still closed, but from where she was sitting next to the window, light spilled in where the curtain didn’t quite meet the wall. She stood and groaned as her body ached, mostly from the unpleasant sleeping position. She began stretching all her body out, and as if right on cue, the familiar sound of footsteps leading to her door, and then of course…

 

“Anastasia, are you awake? Lots of important things to do today, you need to start your day off right. Breakfast will be ready in 5.” Mama began knocking, taking the silence as sign Ana was still asleep. By the third knock Ana had opened the door, and surprisingly Mama had caught her fist midair before it met her daughters face.

 

“Good, you’re up. Stop scrunching your face like that, it’ll get stuck like that – and then who will marry you?” Mama scoffed turning on her heels. Ana scowled at her back as she retreated down the stairs.

 

She rolled her eyes at the threat, shutting her door. Her mind continued its musings as she dressed into her uniform, pulling her hair into a tight bun at the top of her head. Her stomach fluttered as she thought back to last night, and instantly scolded herself. Why did just the fleeting image of him- still uncertain of his intentions for waking me at that hour- cause this type of reaction? She caught her reflection in the mirror, and there was a clear flush to her cheek. She closed her eyes, and covered her cheeks as her mind quickly answered that question with the memory of his lips inches from her own back at lake, and she swore she could still feel the tickle of his breath on her skin-

 

Her thoughts were again interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, and I realized I had brought my fingers up to graze my lips. I headed out my room all while I shook off the indiscretion, silently reprimanding myself – ‘He is your friend Eleanora, he did not by any means want to kiss you, you’re imagining things to distract yourself.‘ She nearly tripped down the last stair when she saw him standing in her foyer. Her jaw fell slack, and for a moment she was speechless. Steve stood noticeably anxiously by his side, while Bucky exuded some confidence that she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before, but there was a look in his eye that didn’t quite match, and almost definitely looked like fear. She didn’t quite have enough time to analyze any further before her mother spoke.

 

“These boys say you had to be at school early today to pick up your graduation attire, and that they were beginning to worry that you had forgotten as you were late. Is that true, Eleanora?” Her accent thick and her eyes narrow, boring a hole in Ana. Ana forced herself to nod, still facing the boys and still refusing to speak, to her mother at least. She met her mother’s scowl, and Ana knew that look – it was the look she gave when she dared Ana or her father to lie to her. Almost like she was warning us that she would know the truth. It always terrified Ana, and she never did chance lying when Mama gave her that look. However, this time it seemed to lose its tenacity. Maybe something in her had broken, some leash of control that Mama had when she had the fear of the unknown on her side. Ana felt almost brazen against that stare, and even threw in an apologetic smile before looking back at the boys, who both looked slightly more nervous than they just had a moment ago.

 

“I am so sorry, I completely forgot. Thank you so much for coming to retrieve me, I just don’t know where my head is at. Let us leave at once so we aren’t any later than we already are,” she moved quickly, reaching around Steve to turn door knob, corralling them through the still opening doorway. She quickly grabbed her bag and pulled the door shut before giving Mama the chance to process what she had even said. She waved the boys on, and they all began to run as fast as they could from the house – she hoped to her mother it was indiscernible if they were running because they were late, or because Ana had just gotten away with her first lie and she was fleeing the scene.

 

Once the trio had gotten sufficiently far enough from the house, they slowed their pace to a comfortable stroll. Bucky and Ana had taken a few steps before realizing Steve had stopped all together, buckled over catching his breath.

 

“Woah buddy – you need to give your lungs room to expand, arms up!” Bucky moved to lift Steve's torso back upright, guiding his arms over his head, and Steve rested his hands on his head. His breathing slowly began to return to normal, and Bucky patted him on the back of his shoulder.

“You did good bud! Kept up and everything! Our training must be helping.” He beamed at Steve.

 

“Or… my fight or flight… chose flight… and adrenaline and fear beats asthma…” Steve panted, forcing a smile after he finally finished. Ana giggled, and both of them looked at her – almost as they had forgotten the rescue mission that had happened mere minutes ago.

 

“Ana, you definitely have to be getting trained by Jesse Owens or something because even I was struggling to keep up with you,” his eyes gleamed as he gently bumped her shoulder with his elbow when he passed her. She rolled her eyes at his allegations.

 

“When are you just going to admit it, Jamie,” she stressed the nickname, reveling in the cringe in his posture. She could almost see the face that matched the body language, and a smirk spread across her lips. “I am just better than you, you can’t be the best at everything, darling. Didn’t Momma Rogers ever teach you that?” she mewed, skipping next to him, and then stopping him as she began circling him and a now less winded Steve. “I’m the best runner, Steve is the best artist..”

 

“And don’t forget I won the punch contest last month,” Steve chimed and Ana laughed at the memory. They quite literally had a contest on who could punch through 50 paper bags the fastest, after Bucky remarked that Steve ‘couldn’t punch his way out of a paper bag’ when Steve tried to pick a fight with a much larger man on the street. Something about him being rude to a woman who passed by? She can’t remember the justice Steve tries to impart in every scuffle he gets into.

 

She nodded to Steve, “And has the best punch..” she could see Bucky’s eyes roll before she stood in front of him, cocking her head to the side – pretending to be deep in thought. She even added the chin rub for added effect. Steve let a snicker slip from his lips, quickly quieted from a look from Bucky that Ana couldn’t see. He returned his eyes back to Ana, smirk returning to his face as he took a step closer to her. A small noise of protest escaped Steve as Bucky brought his hand up her jawline and moved an escaped ringlet behind her ear.

 

“Oh Anastasia, you know what I’m the best at..” he teased, shrugging Steve’s hand from his shoulder.

 

“Bucky…” Steve warned, Ana couldn’t see his face which most likely matched his concerned tone. Her eyes were frozen on Bucky’s, almost distractingly so - counting the shades of blue and green. She felt his finger graze her cheek on their return from her ear, and she felt herself slightly lean into them. He faltered slightly, but she quickly regained focus and straightened her posture and he continued the descent.

 

Steve must’ve seen something she didn’t because before she had fully processed Steve’s voice exclaiming “Bucky, No!”, Ana felt the wind knocked out of her as her back hit the grass with a thud. She groaned softly as she reoriented herself to their new positions. Bucky had himself poised over her, one hand laid over her throat and his other holding his weight off of her next to her head.

 

“I always get them on their backs, before they even know what hit them,” the flirtatious smirk that lit up his face made her stomach turn in on itself. Steve’s pleads in the background for him to cut it out must’ve reminded him of their public location, as the smirk faded and he began to clarify his statement through a chuckle as he began to push himself off of her, “You know, on the field during a game. That’s why they call me the sniper, if you didn’t remem-“

 

Ana used her own elbow to collapse his arm, she used that now downwards momentum to pull his other shoulder down to her other side – flipping him- while kicking herself up off the ground to assume a similar position to his own, pressing on his neck slightly firmer than he had on her own. The look on his face was priceless, she's sure that the look on Steve’s would have also been worthy of a photograph, judging by the actual squeal he made.

 

“Being overconfident will get you nowhere Mr. Barnes – it instills ignorance. You must be self-assured, all while remaining aware of your own weaknesses and recognizing your opponent’s strengths, or you will be the one as screwed as a belly-up turtle in a rainstorm darling.” She flashed him a smile in response to his scowl, his brows pulled together in most likely a mixture of pain and frustration. Her smile softened slightly, adrenaline still coursing through her, her eyes focusing on the downturned corner of his mouth. As she shifted to stand, she had to lean in closer to him, and panic overtook her as she - for some reason still unknown to herself – pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, so quickly that Steve probably didn’t even notice. She felt her cheeks heat up as she stood the rest of the way up, taking a moment before turning to Steve. She hoped that any flush she had could be attributed to the match she just had with Bucky and not the indecency she just displayed.  Bucky stayed laying for a moment, the shock on his face as he again made eye contact with her caused her stomach to do a flip, and Steve helped him up as Ana straightened out her skirt.

 

“Gees Ana, where the heck did you learn to do that?” Steve finally exclaimed, sounding more excited than Bucky would have him be judging by the look they exchanged. She stepped back onto the sidewalk and continued heading to school, shrugging.

 

“My daddy must’ve noticed some no-good boys hanging around his little girl, wanted to make sure she kept them honest,” she winked at Steve as he caught up to her, who immediately blushed. She forced down her desire to want to throw up from mortification and kept her head held high as they reached the last intersection before the school. It wasn’t a whole lie – but she never knew what her Papa was trying to prepare her for, whenever she asked he the only answer he gave was ‘ _So you never get stuck with your back against the wall – my baby girl won’t go down without a fight’_ , and eventually they stopped training. She never questioned him why, but one time he caught her mimicking the fight moves she saw Bucky and Steve doing down in the yard, and she could still remember look he gave her - it was like he had seen her take down a mountain in their living room. Her soul warmed at the memory, calming her slightly.  She felt Bucky’s presence on her other side, but she refused to look at him – it was taking every ounce of her to maintain her composure, and she knew that his eyes would melt what was left of it and leave her in a puddle on the corner of Main and Mulberry without any second thought.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

1952

 

Bucharest

 

Ana was walking back to her apartment from the market, bags of groceries in her arms when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge. She spun around to check her surroundings only to see nothing, so she shook off the feeling and continued on. A few more steps and the feeling seemed to only intensify. She heard a footstep of someone moving swiftly behind her, and could hear their arm coming to put her in a chokehold. Dropping her groceries, she quickly grabbed their arm, flipping her assailant into the brick wall of her apartment building – pinning them with her blade she pulled from her waistband against their neck. The young woman beamed at Ana.

 

“You are as good as they say, aren’t you, ptichka?” Ana scowled at the name, pressing the blade against her jugular with slightly more force – the woman’s breath hitching slightly.

 

“Who sent you?” Ana demanded. It had been quiet for seven years – Ana of course always felt like she was being watched, but she had been living in relative peace and quiet for seven years – aside from her own psyche.

 

“No one sent me, Anastasia. I work for no one. There had been talk about you, rumors, about the girl who survived the vault, but was killed by American troops,” a smirk grew across her face, exposing her perfect set of teeth. “Yet, here you stand. Your hair is dark, but you are still you. I’ve studied your file, your photo. You are the ptichka.” Ana loosened her grip on the woman slightly, her interest in what the women knew growing.

 

“I have a file?” she asked, curtly.

 

“Of course, not as interesting as some I have read if I was to be quite candid. When they don’t take you back apart again to see what went wrong, the story seems to lose its intrigue. What kind of ending is ‘American troops confiscated Asset 22101, her death was reported to rogue Agent 2221 on Oct-‘”

 

“I’m sorry, my death was reported to a Rogue Agent? My mother reported my death to an agent? An agent of what?” Ana’s anger of her mother’s seeming betrayal, while not all that surprising, resulted in the pressure of the blade pressing back into the woman’s neck.

 

She coughed slightly at the discomfort of the blade pressing dangerously close to piercing her skin. “Anastasia, maybe we could talk about this over tea – I have no interest in making an enemy of you. I have information, and a proposition for you, so maybe we could work out some sort of a deal,” she murmured, her breathing labored as she attempted to keep from moving.

 

Ana dropped the blade from the woman’s neck, but still kept it aimed at her.

 

“I don’t make deals blindly, I’ve been burned by the people who supposedly love me – why would a stranger treat me any better,” she began before her curiosity got the better of her.

 

“You know where I live,” she asked- the woman responded with a slight nod, and Ana slid the blade back into her waistband. “Meet me there in an hour, bring me replacement groceries that I lost when you attacked me, and my file, and I will consider that an olive branch. I will hear your proposition, but I give no promises to my acceptance.” Ana turned on her heels, continuing on her way, leaving the woman in her place in the alley, not fully expecting to ever see her again.

 

 

“So they were attempting the same medical breakthrough that made Steve able to enlist? Why would they try it on me, I wasn’t sick like he was.” Ana rifled through the pages of notes, most of them in Russian and required slightly more concentration to read, so the woman – Sofiya, Ana had learned – had been giving her more or less a synopsis, and answering as much of Ana’s questions as she could.

 

“The serum wasn’t meant to cure Captain Rogers, well, in some ways it was. That is why he volunteered, but the serum itself had a purpose beyond healing. That purpose you may not have noticed, since you hadn’t seen him since Erskine’s experiments but..” she flipped the file to pull a photo out, grainy as it was, it was a photo of Steve – a much larger version of Steve. She pulled the photo from Sofiya’s hands and studied it. She traced his outline, he looked to be almost 4 inches taller, and probably a hundred pounds of muscle heavier. Her eyes traveled to the people in the picture with Steve – all soldiers, and her heart sunk when her eyes met his. He was happy, they all were, smiles reaching their eyes – arms over each other’s shoulders. Steve had mentioned in his letters they were in the same unit, and how they both missed me terribly. Her heart ached a bit when she felt herself doubting that sentiment. Scolding herself for even thinking they were happier in this photo than they ever had been with her. She couldn’t bring herself to open James’ letters. He eventually stopped writing when Steve had enlisted, Ana writing them joint letters, but only ever having Steve’s elegant writing return, although he signed both their names. She’d never know what was in those letters, sure her mother got rid of her belongings the second she was rid of her. She shook the thoughts away, she had spent years letting these unknowns eat away at her, she was done thinking about things that could not be changed.

 

“The serum was meant to create super soldiers, ones that were stronger, faster, and that would heal from injuries and illnesses in record time,” Sofiya continued when Ana hadn’t said anything after several minutes of longingly studying the picture she handed her. “Several countries had teams of scientists working on a version. Erskine’s was the first successful one.”

 

“The first, so there have been other countries to be successful?” Ana finally found her voice, fear lacing her voice.

 

“Yes, and in my research, I had found at least two successful cases from each of the other two groups. I was only interested in one, for now.” Sofiya leaned back in her chair, away from the woman who was scrambling to put together the information this woman was giving her.

 

Ana leaned her elbows on the table, cradling her head, massaging her temples. “So to surmise, you are telling me, my mother’s family was a part of a long lineage of Russian mafia, and her parents were recruited into a glorified Russian terrorist group. My mother, who was sent to America on a mission, went AWOL because she fell in love with my father. Then, to regain the trust of the organization, she offered me up as a test subject, claiming my superior blood line would make me a prime candidate for successful transformation. Then, they injected me, and when I didn’t die in the first 72 hours like every other candidate had previously, they did exploratory surgery on me to test my healing rates – which explains the scar I gained during my hazy period. Then, when I escaped, they assumed the troops were going to use me to replace Captain Rogers, as he had recently gone MIA, and it wasn’t until my mother handed over the telegram that Sargent Dugan sent over informing her of my demise that they had deemed me dead and called off the search parties,” Ana had clenched her eyes shut, trying to piece together all this information, find any part that could be used to manipulate her, but couldn’t find anything Sofiya could try and use to push her to cooperate.

 

Sofiya straightened in her chair, pulling stray fuzz from her sweater. “That seems to be most of it,” she shrugged hap hazardly.

  
“Okay, so what do you want with me then? Just because I have this serum, doesn’t make me super, well, anything.” Ana huffed, opening her eyes to look over the woman.

 

“I want to train you, I want you to then help me train other girls to be strong, independent, disciplined women,” Ana looked at the woman, unconvinced, so Sofiya continued.

 

“We’re the underdogs here, Ms. Moran, the housewives, the slaves to our husband’s wills, seen as weak little flowers for men to trounce all over. I am from an organization that has been working for decades to combat that image, that create powerful women that can take down any man.” Sofiya had now leaned her own body over the table, elbow propping her up so she’s closer to Ana. She brought her voice to a whisper.

 

“We could bring the next generation of women up to be more powerful than men, and what a world that would be, wouldn’t it?” she posed and she sat back in her seat, waiting for Ana’s answer, unwavering confidence exuding her.

 

“So we train, and then I help you in training girls to be like us? Like me? Super soldiers?” Ana asked, voice more timid than she had intended.

 

“No, not like you per se. We do not have access to the serums used on any of the successful super soldiers. Think of the girls having a more, float like a butterfly – sting like a bee mentality. Graceful – yet deadly. Soldier sounds so, manly. Bumbling. Heavy. Not at all what our goal is at our institution,” Sofiya explained, her voice becoming harsher when speaking about soldiers, men soldiers. Ana looked around her little apartment, minimalist as it may be – it was her home, the only home she’s ever had. She felt the handle of the blade she had tucked into the waist band of her shorts, knowing that if Sofiya had been any terrorist group racing to recreate the successful serum inside of her, she wouldn’t have stood a chance. Honestly – she was sure if Sofiya had actually wanted to fight her, she would have been dead before she even knew she was being followed. She couldn’t be a sitting duck, she can’t just hide out in her safe house waiting for life to pass her by. Here was an opportunity to help girls protect themselves, so that no one would ever be helpless like she was.

 

“I’ll let you train me, let me see what this institution is all about, and then I’ll give you my answer on whether or not I want to assist you,” Ana finally conceded, her hand still subconsciously tracing the picture of her boys, of her soldiers.

 

A smile grew across Sofiya’s face, and she leaned in to place her hand over Ana’s, covering the photo. “Sounds like this is the start of a beautiful friendship, my dear Anastasia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking major artistic liberties with The Red Room, I'm not sure what their mission statement would be or what. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, suggestions all welcome <3


	7. Chapter 7

1960

 

Ana’s back hit the mat, knocking the wind straight out of her.

 

“God dammit Sof,” she groaned, rolling over to push herself back up.

 

“You let your guard down, babochka, again,” she scolded, rolling her eyes and turning to grab her water from the bench at the edge of the room. Ana smirked, using that opportunity to move in on her. Sofiya, who Ana has decided is psychic, quickly countered her move. Separating, they began to move around each other, gauging what the others next move would be. Sofiya has attempted to instill patience into Ana, to let the enemy come to her full force, and use their own power against them. Sofiya was strong, but she has taken down people with triple her strength. Ana, strong for her own size, but the tact and grace Sofiya used in combat was impressive. Sofiya moved to take out her legs from underneath her, Ana jumped over her kick, wrapping her leg around the arm Sofiya had extended to knock Ana down – anticipating Ana’s dodge. She used gravity to her advantage, adding to her downwards momentum and her trapped arm to flip Sofiya onto her back, pinning her down by kneeling on her chest.

 

Smile spread quickly across Ana’s face – they had been training for 8 months, and this was the first time she had been able to pin her.

 

“Good job babochka – that felt more like a sting,” Sofiya praised, smirking slightly and taking the hand Ana outreached after she stood and pulling herself up.

 

Still holding her hand, she easily flipped Ana back into her familiar position with a groan.

“Now do it again,” was all Sofiya huffed, walking back to her starting position at the edge of the mat.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------- 

1966

 

Ana woke up to the sun peaking in through the thin sheets she had covering the window. She hadn’t quite gotten used to sleeping in this late, waking much before sunrise when they had students and barely sleeping during her training. Even before that she was usually awoken by her mother before the sun had a chance to wake her.

 

“We have orders, my dear,” Sof had had turned on the light in her room abruptly, Ana pulled the scratchy wool blanket over her face.

 

“You have orders, Sofiya Vladimirovna,” she groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

 

“Can you not be so unreasonable so early, Anastasia, I haven’t had my coffee,” Sofiya sighed, pulling her long black hair into a tight bun.

 

“I’m not working for them, Sofiya. You heard his plans – Widows?? Wolf Spiders? It sounds absolutely insane, pchelka,” Ana pulled the blanket from her face, and propped herself up on her elbows.

 

“What do you expect me to do, Ana? Just hand you over to those people? We’ve been through this, it’s a small price to pay to keep you safe.” Sofiya sat next to her on the bed, tightening the laces on her boots.

 

“Why is my safety more important than the safety of the girls we wanted to make sure were protected?” Ana’s voice had raised slightly, not quite yelling – but definitely agitated.

 

“We are still going to train them, Ana, that isn’t going to chang-”

 

“They want us to desensitize them to killing, to kill each other if it came to it!” Ana interrupted, this time in a yell.

 

“Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, Ana! Do you think you’d be able to do it? Kill someone in an instant without second guessing it? That second of hesitation could cost you your life,” Sofiya retorted, frustration, anger, sadness, all present in her tone.

 

Ana hesitated, words stuck in her throat. She didn’t think she could, most of her training was to immobilize the threat, to bring them to the point in which she could kill them, but would she ever be able to do it? She didn’t know. Sofiya took her silence as her answer. Professor Grigor Pchelintsov, one of the men who to her about this plan, explained that the girls would not remember their training, but it would be ingrained in them. He had apparently developed some regimen that would imprint the girls with memories, making them think they had just been heavily trained in ballet – Sofiya had used ballet to impart discipline in their girls. This, in theory, would make the combat fighting second nature to them, but they would not necessarily have any negative memories from the training itself. It all sounded very fishy to Ana – especially since no one would answer what the girls would do following this academy experience.

 

“I know you, Ana, I trained you to become very skilled in combat, you hardly miss targets with any weapon we’ve gotten our hands on, you throw yourself into any task a hundred percent, but you care, Ana. You care, and I love that about you. But you know those girls can’t care if it’s the choice between kill and be killed.” Sofiya’s eyes softened, and she brought her hand up to Ana’s cheek, caressing her in any attempt to calm her down.

 

Ana leaned into her touch, sighing and closing her eyes. How selfish is she that she’d rather train girls to kill than to be sent back to her mother’s family? She must have some survival instincts, because she can only imagine what they’d do to her for ‘disobeying’ for this long.

 

“What could they possibly need us to do already? He said we’d only be called in for things their own agent couldn’t handle.”

 

“They said their men have located The Winter Soldier, and they need help bringing him in.” Sofiya stood and pulled the blanket of Ana completely, urging her to get up

 

“The Winter Soldier? Isn’t that Hydra’s successful case of their version of Erskine’s serum?” Ana questioned, standing and pulling on her pants.

 

“It is,” Sofiya nodded before turning and walking out the door, leaving before Ana could argue anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still fiddling around with how I want this story to flow - I have a general outline, but the next couple chapters will probably be going back. 
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos, comments, suggestions, <3


	8. Chapter 8

**1941**

Rebecca Barnes, Bucky’s little sister, moved in with his Aunt Ida with Bucky immediately following his parent’s death. Ida was a lovely woman, but the toll of taking care of two kids on her own, especially one as rambunctious as Bucky was, wore on her quickly. Bucky, who had always been very keen on people’s emotions, brazenly asked Mrs. Rogers one day while he was over if he could move in with her. Of course, in true Sarah Rogers fashion, gave zero hesitation in taking in her son’s comrade, and the rest is history.

Bucky and Rebecca had remained close, although Aunt Ida worked long hours and lived across town. Once he was old enough, he began to take public transit to see her on weekends and around holidays. However, as Rebecca has gotten older, has become busier with friends and had less and less time to spend time with her brother. She was a freshman in another high school, Bucky always insisted she was a “young” freshman, rejecting Steve and Ana’s insistence that he need not worry about her well-being. However, his worry must have been slightly warranted – as Ana learned the Saturday following their high school graduation.

It was a cool June morning, grass still wet from a storm they’d received the night before. Ana and her mother were kneeling side by side on a blanket, weeding and pruning their flower bed that lined the front of their building. Her mother heard the young woman approach much before Ana, Ana only turning when she noticed her mother had turned to eye up the small girl approaching, a very stern looking Bucky standing on the sidewalk in front of his own home, arms crossed starkly across his chest. Ana almost hadn’t recognized her - she had grown up since she had seen her last, which had only been about two years, maybe less. Her mother’s stare shifted from Rebecca, to Ana, and back again, while she waited for the reason for the girls visit. Ana stood, taking a few steps to meet her and pulled her into a warm embrace – trying to relieve some of the girls obvious tension.

“Why, isn’t this a surprise, Ms. Rebecca. Gosh, you’ve turned into quite a pretty young lady haven’t you?” Rebecca’s blush deepened, and she moved to watch her feet play with the small amount of overgrowth of the lawn, brushing the blades of grass back and forth while she seemed to build up any amount of courage to complete her task she was sent over to do.

Ana decided to break the silence, her mother standing and dusting off her slacks – most likely about to scare the girl off for wasting her time. “What can I help you with, Rebecca?” She leaned down to attempt to force eye contact with the girl, and she eventually met them. Her eyes seemed slightly puffy, as if she had been crying, and judging by the brooding brother behind her, Ana guessed that he was the most likely cause. Ana’s eyes were soft, and encouraging, trying to exude the complete opposite emotions that Bucky was radiating.

“We.. I mean I.. was hoping.. well Bucky said you were the smartest one in their class… well besides Stevie.. and well Steve is away this summer.. and I kinda.. well sort of.. ended up needing to take summer courses…” she stammered, but Ana seemed to get where she was going. Ana rested a hand on the girls shoulder, looking over at Bucky and sending him a scolding look, there was no need to make his sister this upset over needing help academically, especially following her first year of high school – that transition is hard for some people, and Bucky of all people should not be judging anyone. Ana was pretty confident the school officials let him graduate just for the sake of ridding themselves of him. He wasn’t a bad student per se, just very precocious and rebellious against any sort of authority figures. 

“Oh honey, don’t worry about that. Lots of kids need summer school. Honestly, I am surprised your brother never had to go – not that he would if they tried to make him,” Ana jested, winking at the girl, which earned her a meek smile and small giggle. Ana’s mom crossed her arms, growing impatient and cleared her throat.

Ana turned to look at her, and her mother motioned her head towards the garden and Ana nodded before turning back to Rebecca.

“I can help you catch up on your studies if you’d like? Go over some things you didn’t get the first time around? Even try and get ahead so next year will be a little easier?”

Rebecca’s face lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically for a girl who looked just about on the verge of tears moments ago. Ana looked to her mother, “If that’s alright with you mama, I would have to take the bus to her house a couple times a week?” She looked back at Rebecca who nodded.

“I will drive you, Anastasia. But now we have to get back to our chores. Nice to meet you Rebecca, Ana will come to your house tomorrow afternoon is that alright?” Rebecca looked back at Bucky, who gave a single nod before glancing at Ana and turning to go back into the house.

“Thanks Ana! See you tomorrow!” She said, as she turned and ran after her brother. Ana turned and went back to kneeling at the garden with her mother, in silence, which for once Ana appreciated.

 

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ana spent Sundays and Thursdays with Rebecca at Aunt Ida’s. Much to her surprise, Bucky has been there every day – he apparently decided to spend some time with Rebecca while Steve was at an art retreat. Aunt Ida worked long hours in the restaurant, so she was never around while Ana was there, but sometimes Ana would catch her on her way out. He also decided to join in on the tutoring sessions, and became quite engrossed in all the lessons Ana had helped Rebecca with. Every once in a while, she caught him watching her, usually when Rebecca finally understood something that was giving her trouble, a look in his eye that could only be described as pure adoration.

It was a hot Thursday afternoon, the sun had start to set, but the air was still hot and heavy with humidity. Ana nodded to her mother as she got out of her car, and spent the entire time walking up to the house attempting to smooth her frizzy curls. She got up to the door, smoothing he skirt out, and reached up to knock when she heard the doorknob begin to turn, revealing Rebecca who had a very large grin on her face. Ana returned the smile, questioning look in her eyes, and walked passed her into the foyer. When Ana turned to look at Rebecca, she was met face to face with a marigold. Ana’s jaw went slightly slack, before turning into a large silly grin as she reached out to take it.

“Th-thank you Rebecca, marigolds – they’re”

“Your favorite” James said as he entered the room behind Ana. Rebecca giggled as she squeezed around Ana and passed him up the stairs.

Ana turned to look at him, smile still present, but her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she saw the rest of the marigolds in his hand outstretched to her.

“Have dinner with me Anastasia,” he instructed, the look in his eye the only hint to it being a question. Ana stood in silence, in awe of the young man standing in front of her. He stood there in black pants, both too long and just slightly too large, a white shirt rolled up to his elbow – probably from a combination of the fact it was 95 degrees out, and the shirt was also too big. He was wearing a cobalt blue bow tie, which brought out his eyes – still glistening at her awaiting her response. He took a step towards her, taking the hand she was holding the flower in in his, guiding it to the rest of it’s family in his other hand – effectively handing the bouquet to her. He didn’t release her hand, holding it and the bouquet between both of his hands, slightly rough and clammy, but she didn’t mind it. She noticed herself studying them, how they enveloped her own hand, his hand much larger than hers. She found her way back up to his face – worry now spread along his brow bone, softening when he saw the smile on her face.

She cocked her head to the side, smirking slightly and reached her other hand out. “James, I would love to have dinner with you.” His smile filled his entire face, and he grabbed her hand guiding her to the kitchen where he had set the table – complete with an empty vase and a couple mismatched candles he probably found around his aunt’s house. Ana bit her lip, attempting to remain coy and keep the giddy grin off her face as he moved to pull out her chair.  He served her some salad that he had placed in the center of the table before taking his own seat. Rebecca came around with her aunt’s apron tied around her waist and a carafe of juice, filling both their glasses before skipping off.

 

The dinner started out quiet, a slight awkwardness falling over them, but that seemed to dissipate when Rebecca came out to bring the main course out. Soon, Ana had almost completely forgotten to finish her meal as they were just talking and laughing so much. She was pretty sure this is the most they had spoken to each other alone, but you couldn’t tell that. Before she knew it, she looked at the clock and the 2-hour session she had with Rebecca was almost completely over, and she knew her mother would be outside waiting for her. Already feeling like she could be in trouble any moment for going on this date instead of helping Rebecca, Ana quickly stood up and went to bring her dishes to the sink, only to be stopped by Rebecca, who gave her a little shove towards Bucky followed by a small wink she was pretty sure he couldn’t see. Bucky grabbed her elbow and lead her towards the door, and the silence fell upon them again. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t seem to formulate the words. Ana began to open her mouth to ask what was wrong, when his lips crashed down on hers. Startled at first, they both stayed still, until Ana was able to comprehend what was going on, and she began kissing him back. The kiss was soft and timid, but there was this layer of need behind the sweetness of it – like they had both been holding back this desire and now it had been released through a broken dam. Outside a horn honked, and they jumped back from each other like they had been struck by lightning. A small quiet bye left both of their lips before Ana hurriedly exited the house, hoping her cheeks didn’t look as flushed as the felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this one took a little longer, the other ones I had written in bulk to post really quickly, and now I am writing as I go. I try to write a little bit everyday, but sometimes my job doesn't allow for that as I get pretty drained once I get home. 
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! I'm wrapping up the backstory before I bring Ana face to face with the Winter Soldier, this section will bring us up to where I brought in Ana being experimented on. Maybe a 'future' Steve/Bucky scene thrown in? I write whatever comes to me, let me know if theres any difficulty following whats going on
> 
> <3 kudos/comments<3


	9. Chapter 9

**1941**

Thursdays had become their thing – Ana had some reservations about skimping out on Rebecca’s tutoring time, but on their Sunday sessions she was doing so well on the topics that Ana was teaching her for her sophomore year course load that Ana stopped worrying so much. They spent their time playing card games, baking cookies for his Aunt and sister (usually at Ana’s insistence), or at Bucky’s insistence – relaxing on the couch listening to radio shows, which usually turned into a lively debate between them on the most obscure topics, whether it be the green hornet’s ability to stay anonymous from a simple mask, or whether Abbott and Costello were comedic geniuses or ‘blithering idiots’. However, no matter the topic, a lull always fell over them whenever he would always lay an arm across the back of the couch, and like gravity Ana would lean into him, her body molding to his. They would sit in contented silence, Bucky moving his hand down to trace lazy shapes over Ana’s exposed arm just below her sleeve, Ana barely hearing the drone of the radio over the sound of his beating heart.

This routine continued until Steve came home in the last week of August. Ana walked in one Thursday evening, and to her surprise was not immediately greeted by him. Rebecca met her in the foyer, a comforting smile on her face – note and marigold in her hand. 

“He says he’s real sorry, Ana. He went with Mrs. Rogers to go pick up Stevie, he thought he was coming home tomorrow or he woulda told you himself,” she stated before handing over the note-flower combination.

“Oh, that’s no problem!” Ana did her best to hide the wave of disappointment that sunk into her chest. “We can work on those algebra problems you had on Sunday,” she forced a smile, moving to head towards the dining room.

“Ooooor, we could bake? Maybe that yummy lemon cake you made last month?” Rebecca asked in a very sing-song tone, puppy dog eyes in full swing.

“Okay, fine. I think I could work some chemistry into baking,” Ana winked at the girl – chuckling at the groan that came from her at the mention of turning sweets into learning. They spent the next hour working on the cake, and then the next eating and chatting. Rebecca had definitely grown up – she was careful to not give Ana too many details about her life, probably in fear of Bucky’s wrath, but she told her stories about her friends, and a guy friend (that Ana has begun to assume may be more than a friend). Ana felt a slight tinge of jealousy when she talked of going to the park or the stores with her friends, shopping with them for clothes for the new school year. Ana never had those experiences, really didn’t have any friends who would be interested in doing that with her, certainly Steve would do it if she asked, but would he enjoy it? Probably not. She giggled to herself of the thought of Steve standing in a department store holding Ana’s purse with an armful of clothing. She then looked at the time and knew her mother would be waiting outside soon, and she looked to her side to see the note she had yet to open. She picked it up, and lightly traced her name scrawled on the outside in his attempt at neat writing. The inside, short but no less confusing, still left butterflies filling her stomach.

                _Dearest Anastasia,_

_I am so sorry I couldn’t be with you today – instead I must be in a car with Steve for 8 hours in August heat. I assure you, I would rather be hot and sweaty with you (I am guessing you would smell much better). I mean that this trip will be hot, and we will most likely be sweating – get your mind out of the gutter, Ana. To make up for my absence, I have recruited Rebecca’s assistance for a evening of debauchery to welcome Stevie back to civilization, and so that we can have some fun outside of my aunts poorly decorated den. I’ll be counting the minutes until I see your beautiful face_

_Yours always,_

_James_

Ana knew that her face had most likely turned an obscene shade of red, and she couldn’t stop the cheek-burning smile from residing on her face. While the flirting had always been slight, he had never out-right complimented her or been as brazen with her – or at least not that she had put any merit behind. She looked at Rebecca who cloyingly shrugged her shoulders – and Ana knew she wouldn’t get any information out of her. Ana sighed, folding the note carefully and sliding it into the pocket of her shorts, taking one last whiff of the flower before leaving it on the table and walking outside to her awaiting mother. She spent the whole ride home calculating the minutes until Saturday night would be there, trying to keep her demeanor cool as to not tip off her mother.

* * *

 

**Saturday**

 

Ana could barely sleep through the night, anticipation nearly giving her a heart attack. She was trying to rack her brain to figure out how Bucky expected to get her out of the house with mama’s permission. Ana had only been out of the house on a few occasions for social events, and they were always chaperoned by her watchful eye. Ana eventually just stopped going, as having her mother follow her was more embarrassment than it was worth.

Just after breakfast, Ana was startled from her thoughts by the sound of the phone ringing. Not wanting to seem suspicious, Ana continued working on her crossword while her mom got up from her seat to answer it.

“Anastasia, it is the Rebecca girl you tutor,” her mom yelled from the other room – Ana jumped up to scurry to her side, taking the phone from her hand – willing her heart to stop racing. She gave her mom a small smile, ignoring the side eye she shot her as she exited the room.

“H-hello?” Ana felt her voice crack from her nerves.

“I missed your voice,” he hummed, his voice low and smooth. A blush shot across her face, and she turned to face the wall in case her mother was watching her. “Did you miss me too, Anastasia?” she melted at that question – she wasn’t sure if it was the flirtation in the note he left her, or the way he sounded much more sensual through the phone, but Ana couldn’t seem to gather herself to give any sort of coherent answer. He chuckled in response to her silence, and Ana could all but picture the smirk he no question was wearing across his face.

“Go ask your mother if you can go to shopping and to the movies later with Rebecca,” he insisted. Ana cleared her throat and threw in a chipper “Yeah, sure, I’ll ask her right now Rebecca!” before placing the phone down and walking into the kitchen where her mom was sitting at the table, seemingly engrossed in her reading.

“Mama, Rebecca had asked me if I could go with her to the store to help her go back to school shopping and maybe go see a movie afterwards?” She stared down at her hands as she fidgeted with her fingers.

“That’s fine, you’ll walk and I can pick you up when you’re ready to come home? _Before_ curfew.” Although she was giving Ana permission, the tone of her voice almost seemed threatening – like she was daring her to disobey so that she could unleash her wrath. It had been a while since she had punished Ana for anything – maybe she was hoping Ana was up to something? Ana couldn’t dwell on that thought for long, because pure excitement washed over the worry as she went to scurry back to the phone.

“Rebecca?” She asked softly, wishing to herself that it wouldn’t be her.

“Yes darling?” the velvet voice responded, although he also sounded slightly anxious for her response.

“She said yes, you can have your Aunt drop you off at my house and we can walk over to the shops if you’d like?”

“She’ll be there in an hour,” he confirmed, “Goodbye doll, I’ll see you soon,” he drawled.

“Okay, I’ll see you then” she answered, smile permanently plastered across her face. She hung up and brought her hands to her face, scolding her cheeks for disobeying her direct orders to play it cool. She hated how he made her act, she felt silly. However, she loved how she made her feel, and if the smiling and blushing and general speechlessness is a side-effect, she guessed that she could deal with that.  

 

* * *

 

 

Ana fell into bed, all her effort put in to not squealing from pure joy following her day spent with Bucky, and with Rebecca and Steve for that matter. The day was spent laughing, and reveling in each others company. Ana was able to wander the stores hand in hand with Bucky – and watch over Steve helping Rebecca as she picked out a million things to try on. She chuckled as he became buried in the clothing – the image much more hilarious than what she’d imagined days earlier. In the movies, they took turns tossing M&M’s into each others mouth, failing at even the shortest distances possible, until the movie began and they fell silent, Ana’s head comfortably rested on his shoulder, his thumb caressing hers with their other fingers intertwined. In that moment of recalling the nights’ events - she felt contented. Not plagued with any “what ifs” or wondering what could be if she could just be like the other people her age, ones without overbearing mothers. She felt normal, she felt happy, and she felt genuinely cared about, and she fell asleep with a smile, holding on to her pillow, skin still warm from where he was holding her.

Ana woke with a start, feeling the shifting of her mattress as if someone had sat down next to her. She kept her eyes close, praying to whatever god would listen that it wasn’t her mother, that she didn’t figure out what she was really doing yesterday. She heard whoever it was attempting to keep their breathing soft, trying to not to startle her she assumed. She heard them shift, moving closer to her, and she felt herself tense up. No pain came – only a light touch on her cheek. The skin felt familiar to her, rough, warm. She opened her eyes to ensure she wasn’t dreaming, met directly with his cheeky smirk – his eyes gleaming in the moonlight shining through her now open curtain. She sat up to bring herself closer to him, grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him, probably more roughly than she had meant to, but amidst her mild panic attack she had just had, she had never been happier to see him. She pulled back from him, smirk now turned slightly more intoxicated. The contours of his face were sharper in the dull light trickling in her window, eyes more shadowed, but the blue of his eyes seemed as bright as ever – catching any amount of light they could and reflecting it, acting almost as a beacon to her. He brought his hand back up to her face, and softly slid a piece of hair out of her face, lingering and caressing her face. She opened her mouth to speak and he quickly covered it with his finger, bringing a hand to his own signaling for her to be quiet, gesturing to what Ana assumed was the direction he believed her mother to be in.

“We can whisper, just no sudden loud noises,” she breathed, Bucky moving his thumb across her bottom lip as she spoke.

“Okay,” he responded, although Ana could barely make out any noise coming from his mouth, she mostly just read his lips before they came crashing back down onto hers. He held the side of her head, thumb grazing her cheek as his fingers weaved in her hair. His other hand landed on her knee, and he squeezed it softly. Ana let out a soft moan when he pulled away from her again, smirk returned to his face at her response to him. She took a moment to reopen her eyes, blood returning back to her brain in order to form words again.

“What are you doing here, darling? Not that I’m not happy to see you, I am”, she questioned, bringing her own hand up to fidget with his hair – attempting to impart some order to the unruly locks. He had gone without a haircut the entire time Steve was gone, Steve apparently the one who remembered how to tell the barber how he liked his hair cut. He said the one time he had gone without Steve the barber had all but shaved his head. He always had a slightly unrulier hairstyle than Steve’s tightly styled blonde ‘swoop’, but he could almost pull his hair behind his ear now. Ana didn’t mind it, not at all, a little longer and it would almost frame his face perfectly – emphasizing his strong jaw.

“I just needed to see you, I couldn’t get the courage up to say some things earlier, and Steve certainly chastised me enough, and I’ve been beating myself up for hours, and I couldn’t sleep without talking to you,” he grabbed her free hand in his, leaving the other to play with his hair, leaning in to it slightly. “The kissing is just a bonus,” he added with a wink.

Ana cocked her head to the side slightly, squinting at him trying to read his face to get an idea of the thing that was so important that he had to sneak over to her house in the middle of the night – knowing how terrified of her mother that he was.

She took a second to clear her throat, anxiety creeping back into her throat, and she brought her hand from his hair to rest on his. “Okay, hon, you’re scaring me a little bit.”

He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, leaning his forehead on hers before letting out a sigh. “Okay, then I need you to not interrupt me until I’m finished, okay?” He felt her nod, not moving from their positions.

“I love you Anastasia, I love you more than I can begin to describe to you. I want to marry you, I want to marry you and take you away from this place and live happily ever after, because that’s what you deserve. And I will, I promise I will come back and take you away from here.” Ana’s face, slowly shifted from utter shock to confusion to what he was talking about. He looked completely distraught, and Ana’s heart sunk into the pit of her stomach. 

“I enlisted right before graduation, remember?” Ana then understood where he was going, and a lump formed in her throat, and tears threatened to spill. Small voice trying to convince herself that she was wrong. She nodded slowly, willing him to continue.

“I am being called to service, I leave on Monday morning, I have been trying to find a way to tell you for since I found out, but I wanted to do it in person, and Steve ruined me being able to see you Thursday which is why I planned this evening, but then I chickened out, I’m sorry.” Ana lost her composure when she finally let herself look back at him, and saw the tears dampening his cheeks. She remembered how proud and excited he was when he enlisted, the fight that ensued between him and Steve following, the inspirational speech he gave attempting to rationalize his decision to join, which was moving to say the least. He looked torn now, almost like he was doubting his decision. She moved to wipe his cheek dry, and he looked at her and moved to wipe her own tears away and she laughs at the sheer absurdity that they’re more concerned with each other’s tears than their own. She takes a second to breathe and compose herself. 

“First, you do not get to sit here and beat yourself up for leaving. You are going to go and protect our country and be a hero. You are a hero, and you deserve to be recognized as one.” He began to protest, and she covered his mouth with her finger.

“My turn.” He pouted against her finger, nipping at it in protest. “I’m sure I can find a way to keep you quiet, Mister, I let you speak now let me,” he made a shocked face, sending her a wink before zipping his lip and motioning throwing away the key.

“I am so proud of you James, you are an amazing man. The fact that you just sat here and told me you loved me,” she swallowed hard – choking back her tears.

You sat here and you're telling me these things, that you love me, and I am beside myself. This honorable, sweet, generous, funny, handsome, man, wants to marry me. I love you too James Buchanan, I love you and I would love to marry you. But I want you to go and fulfill your destiny, and then when you come back decorated in your ribbons when you take down the nazis, I'll gladly put on a puffy white dress and meet you at the altar."

He was silent, and she sat there watching his face for any emotion. He just sat there, deep in thought, staring at his hands. She sat there, feeling naked and exposed at how open she was with him. She began to chew on her lip, the anticipation beginning to trigger her anxious doubts to bubble up inside of her. He finally looked up at her, pupils blowing out as he focused on her lips. He reached up and used his thumb to slowly pull her bottom lip from her teeth, her breathing becoming more shallow. He leaned in and kissed her, deeper than he ever had. It was slower and more purposeful. His tongue parted her lips, dancing over her own tongue and exploring every inch of her mouth. Ana was in uncharted territory here, she timidly followed his lead moving her own tongue with his. He moved his hand back onto her knee, and the other back to her hair, while she just held on to the collar of his shirt keeping him close to her. After they'd kissed for what seemed like minutes, Ana felt her confidence grow, moving her hands into his hair, maneuvering to climb into his lap, straddling him, the distance between them to great for her anymore. A small gasp escaped his lips, briefly pausing to examine her face for any uncertainty, fire behind his eyes. She pulled him back to her, taking his previous reaction to her biting her own lip as an invitation to give his bottom lip a small nip, followed by a giggle at his shocked groan. He devoured her mouth, hands firmly gripping her hips, removing any distance between them. She felt a small pressure building in between her legs, and she ground against it, a small moan in her throat. Bucky's grip on her hips tightening, holding her still, and breaking the kiss. Both of them sat in silence, breathing heavily. She went in for another kiss, whining when he placed a hand on her stopping her.

"Can't" he breathed, his voice had gotten raspy, and cracked slightly. "We can't, I've already been here too long, and we're not conscious of how loud we're being. I can't get you into trouble." He seemed to regain his composure, softly guiding Ana back onto the bed, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Ana was completely shocked by the 180 that had just happened, and before she could begin to form words he had already made it back to her window. She jumped up and grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her, pulling his head down to meet hers. This time it was more needy, and more one sided than just previously.

She pulled away, putting her head in his chest.

"Please don't go, James. It'll be okay, I just don't want to have to say goodbye yet. If you don't want to... do that.. we don't have to, we can just lay together. I just want to be with you," she pleaded, trying to not start crying again. She felt his hand move around her waist, and the other caressed the back of her head, holding her to him, before he let out a sigh.

"Anastasia. You are a siren, a beautiful, smart, vivacious siren. If I stay, in the state we are in... I'm not a good enough man.. I won't be able to contain myself... you're intoxicating. As much as I want to stay here with you, it's too risky. She'll hear us. She'll hurt you-"

"She doesn't-"

"Anastasia Rochelle," he grabbed her shoulders, bringing her arms distance from him and forcing her to look at him, his look serious and pinched. "Stop protecting her. If you love me, you need to trust me. I know she does more to control you than use her lack of charm and wit." Ana started to look away, but he used his hand to guide her back to his eyes, which almost felt like they could bore a hole through her. "I love you, and I know you love her, but trust me when I say she doesn't love you. Not the way a person should be loved. And I will do everything in my power to show you how you deserve to be loved," he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, holding his lips there before moving down and leaning his forehead back on hers. Ana stayed silent, unsure if he required a response. She knew he was right, but couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Like saying it made it real, and up to now it was just some terrible nightmare.

"Goodnight Ana," he whispered, breath tickling her ear as he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, before he slipped back out the window, down the lattice on the side of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter this week guys, only because I couldn't find a good break to split it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos, comments, constructive criticism (I don't have anyone reading this work, so I am open to anything kindly constructive!)
> 
> Thanks for your support!! Stay tuned for some angsty angst, and maybe smut? Haven't decided what to do yet. What would you like to read??


	10. Chapter 10

Ana stood there in silence listening to her slowing heartbeat ringing in her ears. She came back to herself, feeling weak on her feet, surveying the room. Her heart tightened as her gaze landed on the bed, sheets still in disarray from where they had entangled themselves on. She looked back at the window, and a wave of determination came over her, pulling on her sneakers, and stopping at her backpack to grab something she felt absolutely mortified when someone shoved it in her bag as she left sex ed, but was thankful for it in this moment.

 

She quietly arranged her pillows, knowing this would not fool her mother, but it calmed her nerves the slightest bit. She slipped out the window, anchoring her feet in the trellis before quietly pulling her window shut. She climbed down as quickly as she could, careful to not slip on the dew covered ivy that lined the makeshift ladder, jumping down the last few feet and landing in the grass with a thud. She stood up, trying to wipe away any of the dampness from her legs and butt, but losing interest in that quickly before running to the Rogers household. She knew that for years Bucky and Steve shared a room, but she remembered them saying that Bucky had been sleeping in Steve’s fathers old study - on the couch nonetheless (he claimed it to be because he liked listening to the radio when he fell asleep, but it may have been that Steve snored, which Bucky also teased him about). That made the risk of waking up Steve or Mrs Rogers less likely, giving Ana some relief. Ana had not been in the Rogers house to her knowledge, but she was hoping it was laid out similar to hers as she moved around the side of the building. The sheet hanging over the window in an attempt to block light boosted Ana’s confidence that she was in the correct spot, and she softly tapped on the window with her fingertips. She waited a few seconds, not hearing any stirring, her heart rate quickened - had he decided to sleep in Steve’s room? Had he already fallen asleep? She didn’t hear the radio on, but she also didn’t hear any stirring, so as she got up the nerve to knock again she heard movement inside. She froze in fear, only able to breathe again when she saw Bucky peak around the sheet - suspicion turned to a hard frown when he saw her. Ana’s stomach sank at his appearance, and found it difficult to look at him when he opened the window and helped her inside.

 

“Ana what on earth were you thinking? If she catches you, you’re going to be in so much trouble.”

 

“And what? Grounds me? In a day I’ll have no reason to want to leave the house, Buck. What difference does it make? If I don’t take the chance now, I’m going to regret it. What if we join the war before you get out of training? Then you won’t be able to come home, they’ll ship you right out. And then what if...” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, also realizing in her anxious state she was rambling. She looked up at him and his expression had softened - mouth no longer in a hardened frown, brow unfurled.

 

“James, I want to spend any time I can with you. I pray that we will get more time together, but my life hasn’t always given me the most optimistic outlook, so I tend to prepare for the worst, okay?” She fiddled with the edge of her shorts, feeling his eyes bore a hole through the top of her head. He moved to push her hair out of her face, hand lingering on her cheek. She leaned into it, raising her head to look at him. He used his free hand to pull her into a hug, hand from her cheek moving into her hair, and she felt him plant a kiss on the top of her head and she buried her face in his chest. He wasn’t the most muscular, chest muscles not well defined, but he was solid, warm, comforting. She breathed deeply, taking in his scent - he had a slight musky scent to him, probably from scaling her house, mixed with freshly cut grass she assumed from her lawn (or maybe even that was her shorts from when she fell). Beneath those scents was a more subtle, scent. Almost like dark vanilla with some spicy notes to it - she could only imagine that that was due to any remnants of his cologne he probably applied this morning, or possibly left over from cigars Steve’s dad probably smoked in the room for years. It reminded her of her own dads cigars, she smiled at the memory. A mere trait she had almost all but forgotten about her dad. The closeness began to shift from comforting to something else. She felt the warmth in her chest travel back down to her stomach, and she ground her hips against him, resulting in what could only be described as a low growl from his throat.

 

“Ana..” he warned, but didn’t move away. Ana took that as a sign he didn’t actually WANT her to stop, just that he believed that he should stop her for whatever reason.

 

She moved her hands down his chest, and rested them on his own waist - he had since changed into sweatpants and an old T-shirt, assumingely for bed. She pulled at the elastic, closing any gap that there was between his hips and what really was her lower stomach due to their height difference, but she didn’t care. He rolled his head back from its spot on her head and Ana could hear a groan that he was attempting to stifle, and felt more clearly was an erection through the looser sweatpants material. She hooked her finger in between the waistband of his sweats and boxers and his skin, smirking at the shudder that traveled down his spine, resulting in him tightening the grip in her hair and pulling her into a suffocating kiss.

 

The dam of self resolve must have broken inside of him, because he kissed her like he was a man lost in a desert finding his oasis after days on end, like she was oxygen to him. She struggled to keep up with his ravenous pace, pulling away slightly to catch her breath after a few moments. He took that opportunity to pull of his shirt, and he was looking down at her like she was his prey - his eyes slightly hooded, smirk moving across his face when Ana began to slightly lose her nerve, feeling a definite blush on her cheeks now that she was face to face with his naked chest. She felt herself absentmindedly reach up and draw her hands up his chest, slowly moving them up to his shoulders and then they snaked around his neck. She used that leverage to pull herself up to kiss him, her feet beginning to bother her from the constant tiptoe position she was put in to kiss him, and she was sure the strain on his neck wasn’t comfortable either. He took her added pressure on his neck as a sign to wrap his own arms around her waist, or more specifically around her butt. Hands on each cheek, he lifted her up further to where her feet were no longer touching the ground, but their mouths and hips aligned much easier now. They continued to kiss until Ana felt him adjust, shifting her weight into one of his arms which he wrapped tighter around her, the other moved upwards to just above the waist of her shorts, where her shirt had slightly risen up. The feeling of his fingertips as they moved from her spine around to her side where they rested on her hips gave her goosebumps and caused her breath to catch in her throat. Bucky only paused momentarily before moving from her mouth, peppering kisses down her jaw to her neck, continuing on to the part of her collarbone that was exposed. It was now Ana’s turn for her head to fall back, exposing more of her skin to him, letting a small sigh escape her lips. Bucky continued back up her neck, adding in small nips in with the kisses. He moved his fingers up her side, his entire hand now under her shirt. Ana froze slightly, blush intensifying, when she was now painfully aware that she did not have a bra on under her shirt - and now there was maybe a couple inches between his fingertips and the lower curvature of her breast. She felt warmth intensify at the thought of his hand grazing her breast, of him being one thin cotton layer between her and his own bare chest. She tested his hold on her by moving one hand from around his neck to his shoulder, and he only shifted slightly and she felt secure in the fact that she wasn’t doing much in the way of keeping herself up. She brought her arms down, crossed over her chest, fingertips grazing his hand, to grab the hem of her shirt. He was watching her, intently, swallowing a lump that had formed in anticipation, allowing her to move this at her own pace. She slowly pulled her shirt over her head, more to tease him then out of apprehension, haphazardly dropping it on the floor. His eyes were wide now as they moved down her body as much as they could with their closeness, but he slowly moved his one hand up to caress her breast, fingertips grazing her sensitive skin following the lower curvature, continuing on to meet with her pert nipple, already hardened from the arousal of their encounter. He watched her reaction as he moved over it, almost tickling her with how gentle he was being, before taking it between his thumb and middle finger, pinching it delicately, causing Ana to bite her lip to stifle the moan building in her chest, which incentivized him to use more force, just shy of painful, using his pointer finger to rub the tip of the now sensitized bud, causing her to gasp out.

 

He placed his forehead against hers, hand now completely cupping her breast, but seemingly resting there. He had closed his eyes, and his brow had slightly furrowed, only to reopen them when Ana touched his cheek.

 

“Penny for your thoughts, muirnīn?” She gave pause for a moment at the term of endearment, something that her father had frequently used with her mother back before their marriage had gone bad. She smiled tenderly at him when he sighed and opened his eyes to meet hers.

 

“I don’t want to... I don’t know how to put it...” he paused, obviously trying hard to put his thoughts into words. Ana tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, but it was just short enough that it slipped right back out and into his face.

 

“I don’t want to take this from you, and then go off and die,” he finally articulated. Ana leaned back from him slightly, shocked by his revelation. She gawked at him, while he refused to make eye contact with her.

 

“James Buchanan, you are not _taking_ anything from me. If I want to make love to you, then that is my prerogative. If you don’t want to..”

 

“That’s not it Ana, you _know_ that isn’t it,” gesturing with a nod towards the bulge still pressing against her.

 

“Then what? I know some men like their women to be pure for marriage, and God wants us to be virgins when we marry, but the only reason I’m not marrying you is because I’m pretty sure the church won’t marry us in an hours notice. And if you don’t come home to me, well, then what we do is between me and God, and I can live with that,” she asserted. “Plus, I don’t know if a God that won’t let me love a man going to serve our country, who promised to marry me and love me forever, is a God I want any business with,” she added with a small chuckle, relieved when a faint smile came back across his face, his demeanor much less pained than it just was. She leaned back in, laying a soft kiss on his lips, and he moved his hand from her breast to the back of her head, shifting the soft, loving moment to the heated, passionate one. He took a couple steps, before smoothly setting her down on the couch and moving to sit next to her. Her arousal gave her confidence, dodging his kiss and moving from the couch. Ignoring his confused look, she stood in front of him and silenced his question with akiss. She used her knee to spread his legs apart, kneeling between them and she began to pull down his pants and underwear.

 

“Ana...” he breathed, protesting slightly.

 

“Shhh” she dismissed his cautiousness, continuing to pull on his bottoms before he finally gave in and lifted his hips so she was easily able to slide them down - eyes widening as his dick sprung up once it had been released from the pants prison it had been trapped in. While Ana had nothing to compare it to, she definitely could not fathom how uncomfortable his jeans must have been on it earlier. She tenderly moved her hand from the tip down to the base, just barely touching the balls. The same throaty moan once again escaped as he hung his head back to rest on the couch, and Ana giggled softly when she felt his dick twitch beneath her touch when she brought both her hands back to it, running both sets of her fingers down either side. While she played it off as teasing, Ana was definitely in uncharted territory here and was anxiously trying to figure out what he would like.

Bucky either had grown impatient with the teasing, or could sense her uncertainty, and he wrapped one hand around hers, guiding her fingers around his shaft. He gingerly began to guide her hand up down, moaning. She began to set her own pace, Bucky letting her hand go, instead gripping the edge of the couch cushions. She began to pick up the pace, tightening her grip slightly as she went over the ridge of the head of his penis - as that caused some precum to leak from his tip, and she was able to use it to reduce some of the friction her hands were causing, although not enough. She eyed him carefully as she leaned forward quietly, not slowing her pace to tip him off to what she was planning to do. She slid the head of his dick into her mouth, smirking at the gasp he made, followed by a long moan. His dick twitched in her mouth every time she flicked her tongue over the glans. He tangled his fist in her hair, guiding her mouth down onto the shaft, and back up, matching the pumping of her hand. She continued that motion for a few minutes before his grip tightened in her hair stopping her.

She sat back on her feet, looking up at the mess of a man sitting before her. He had gotten sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, and his eyes had become almost fully hooded and glassy as he looked down on her. She took a moment to wipe the spit that had dribbled down her chin, and that lit a fire behind his eyes as he promptly stood, kicking his pants to the side, leaned down to pick her up and tossed her onto the couch, less tenderly than he had previously. He now took the chance to kneel in front of her, hands moving up her thighs, heat building in his core as he stroked her thigh, each time moving closer to her now soaked through shorts.

“Bucky..” she moaned, beginning to squirm under his touch, looking for any friction against her folds. He grinned at her, reveling in how hot she was for him. He moved up her thigh, following her warmth to rub her folds through her shorts, a relieved moan shot through Ana, who arched her back, rubbing herself against his hand. He used a finger to press in between the folds, feeling for her swollen clit - sensation slightly stifled by her shorts and underwear, but the small cry of pleasure that she let out encouraged him to briskly pull off her shorts and underwear in one swift motion, replacing the soiled coverings with his own hand. He dove between her folds with two fingers, caressing either side of her clit. He slid them up and down, inching towards her throbbing opening, easing her into it. After mere moment of him rubbing her, every few strokes rubbing the tip of her engorged clit, Ana had begun to lose her decorum - panting, moaning and grinding against his hand feverishly.

 

“Buck... please,” she begged breathlessly.

“As you wish,” he said with a smile, sliding a finger inside her dripping vagina, stilling to allow her to adjust, before pumping into her, using his other hand to continue his barrage on her clit. He moved to two fingers after he felt she was sufficiently prepared, and from two to three. By that point she too had become sweaty, and Bucky could tell she probably was close to finishing before she reached down and grabbed his arm to stop him, unable to form words.

 

Once he had stopped he stood over her, waiting for her to give an indication of what she wanted.

 

“I didn’t want to finish by your hands,” she began. “As amazing as they are,” she purred. She reached out and began to stroke his cock, looking up at him through her eyelashes before gesturing to her shorts with her chin. “Pocket,” was all she said. He scrunched his brow at her, not wanting to move from her hands, looking for more information. His confusion just gained him another nod of her head, and the stopping of her titillations on him. He moved to collect her shorts from the floor, grabbing the only item from the pocket. The small foil packet gave him all the information he needed in that moment. He hastily ripped it open, sliding it over his member as he stalked back over to her, eyeing her as she bit her lip in anticipation. He leaned down, taking her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. He lifted her up so he could get a knee onto the couch, leveraging so he could shift her to be laying back across the cushions. He once again positioned himself on his knees between her legs, giving a couple more teasing strokes to her clit. He moved down the kiss her, careful to not lay to much weight on her chest. the head of his cock positioned right on the rim of her warm opening, he continued to kiss her, giving her every opportunity to stop him. She bit down on his lip, and lifted her hips, bringing him inside of her. His groan was met with a moan of her own. He slowly slid himself the rest of the way in, allowing for her to become comfortable with this cock stretching her walls. When he was all the way in he stayed still until she began to squirm underneath of him, whimpering for him to continue. He began slowly, sliding in and out of her, every few pumps slowing and pulling all the way out - resulting in a gasp from Ana when he quickly thrusted back in. He shifted his weight to the arm holding the back of the couch, allowing for him to begin rubbing her breast as he quickened his pace. Ana’s breath had become shallower, and her whimpers became more constant. Bucky felt the tightness begin to form in his balls, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He began to slow down, not wanting to finish before her.

 

“No please, faster, I’m close.. I’m gunna” she begged, not able to finish her sentence as she moaned when he obliged her.

 

“I’m... not.. going to last.. doll,” he said between pants. “So.. beautiful,” he kissed her, her lips now slightly salty from her sweat.

 

Against the kiss, she whispered, “come inside me, darling. Come for me. Come with me,” she was cut off as he began to pound her harder, her moans becoming louder and more desperate. She felt the warm ness grow in her pelvis, exploding inside of her and lighting every nerve in her body, right as Bucky slammed into her particularly roughly and promptly stilled. He remained over her, both of them fighting to catch their breath. He moved the hand from her breast to move her hair that had become stuck to her forehead, kissing her forehead, then her cheek, nose, and then softly against her lips.

“I love you, Anastasia.” He whispered

 

“I love you too, James,” she responded, sleep beginning to come over her.

 

And then a soft knock on the door stopped both of their breathing instantaneously, panic in both of their eyes as they froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this took so long. I had it written last week, but then I just couldn't find the time to actually edit and post it. So I apologize if there are more than the usual mistakes - and I am sorry if this is cringey - first time writing this. 
> 
>  
> 
> KUDOS, COMMENTS, keep me accountable. I get busy and comments come through and I get reminded I completely forgot to actually UPLOAD something. 
> 
> <3 <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini Chapter, closing this out so I can move on. May come back to this but I can’t look at it any longer.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice permeated the door, harsh whisper. Ana heard him place his hand on the door knob, and both her and Bucky scurried to pull on their clothes. Bucky beat her, pulling on his sweats and rushing to the door to open it a crack and sticking his face in, blocking Steves view of the room.  
  
“What do you want Steve? It’s late.” He feigned a tired look, rubbing his eyes adjusting to the light in the hallway.

  
“That was what I was going to say to _you_. Who is here with you? I know you are upset about leaving Ana but you shouldn’t cheat on her” his face began turning red as he continued his heated ramblings, lecturing Bucky about how Ana deserved better. Bucky turned and looked at Ana who was now dressed, and she gave him an approving nod. Bucky stepped back from the door and opened it all the way. Steve paused his rant in mild shock, taking a hesitant step forward into the room, eyes searching before landing on Ana’s. Relief fell over his face, a small sigh escaping his mouth as he rubbed his temples.

  
“Bucky, what did you do – you TOLD her right??” Steve began, anger rising again.

  
“Of course I told her! I went over to tell her a couple hours ago.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, defensively.

  
“You went over to her house? You know how risky that was? What if her mom heard you..” he trailed off looking back over to Ana.

“Wait, he went to your house?” Ana nodded in response.

  
“Then how are you here?” Steve looked confused, and his gaze landed on the disheveled couch, which Ana is sure matched her own demeaner.

  
“I.. um.. followed him. He left, and I didn’t want him to.. so I came here,” Ana losing her confidence, voice smaller and shakier.

  
Steve frowned, walking up to Ana, smoothing down her frizzy hair.  
“Are you okay?” Ana nodded, smile spreading across her face when she looked around Steve and locked eyes with Bucky.

“More than okay, perfect.”  
Steve returned the smile, turning to leave the room. He stopped in front of Bucky, eyes narrowing at him, frown returned to his face. He swiftly smacked Bucky on the back of the head, earning a grown and a ‘HEY’ from him.

“Don’t ever do anything to risk her like that again, y’hear? Can’t go making a mess and then not stick around to fix it.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, and nodded looking down at the floor. As Steve left the room he turned to look back at Ana.

“Go home Ana, please?” and he quietly pulled the door shut.  
Ana looked over at Bucky, who was biting back a smile, and then they both broke out into loud laughter.  
Bucky sauntered over to pull Ana into a tight hug, holding her as close as possible, breathing her in.  
“I love you Ana.”  
“I love you too, James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Been super busy! We got a puppy! 
> 
>  
> 
> What would you like to see? What would you like to know? 
> 
> Kudos & comments!


	12. Chapter 12

1966

They had been walking for what seemed like days, but based on the sun, or what little could be seen between the tree covering, it probably had only been half a day. It was dark now, frigid wind biting at the exposed parts of Ana’s neck and face. She and Sofiya had been both given ‘uniforms’ once they had gone into their agreement with the KGB. Ana had scoffed when she’d seen them, some sort of leather-like material – which she was told, and now knows, is some high-tech insulating material that will keep her cool during combat, but warm in their icy-climate. The very tight pants fit snuggly under her socks and boots, and the jacket – which also seemed to cling very tightly to her body – had a million buckles and pockets for her to conceal as many weapons and gadgets as humanly possible, or inhumanly possible. The neckline of the jacket went surprisingly high, an inch or two up her neck. Ana and Sofiya insisted on wearing their own hats and masks, their anonymity always being a priority. Ana’s reasoning for not wanting to be found seemed clear to both of them, and even Sofiya has been working to keep Ana hidden. Sofiya’s reason wasn’t always so clear. She knew that the women who ran the organization before Sofiya took over rescued her, but she was never clear from where. Whenever Ana would ask, she would quickly shut it down. For as much interest as Sofiya had in Ana because of her super-serum, it never seemed to give Ana a leg up in combat with her. Ana also never got anywhere with that line of questioning either – just being told that she must not be training hard enough. Over the years Ana has come to respect her desire for privacy, lord knows Sofiya has done her fair share of not prying when Ana finds herself losing herself in her past. A part of Sofiya’s training was using their sexuality to get a leg up on their male counterparts, and it had them going to local pubs and seducing men, which Ana had been abhorrently awkward at in the beginning. With a lot of practice, and an acquired taste for vodka, Ana could now melt a man with one look. She slept with a decent amount of them, when she’d had enough to drink to numb the memories of him - it had become a way for Ana to unwind after a rough week of training or just trying to bury her old life away under the alcohol and new men. Sofiya discouraged it, saying it skewed her focus, but more often than not she joined Ana, the two of them some kindred spirits.

Sofiya had been following her GPS to the coordinates the Hydra intel agents provided them with – a safehouse they’d tracked the assassin to. She stopped dead in her tracks, motioning her head towards smoke coming from what seemed like an extinguished fire, probably from cooking dinner. Sofiya took a quick survey of the area, before motioning to a tree. Since this was not a kill mission, Sofiya thought Ana would be more better suited with convincing the assassin to come willingly, since there was little to no chance that they would be able to take him in a fight.

_‘You have kind eyes, Anastasia, trust me, it kills me every time I kick your ass. Maybe it’ll give him pause, he’s gone rogue for a reason, maybe he’s got second thoughts about the assassin life.’_

_‘Oh okay, Sofiya, lets throw the lamb to the lion because MAYBE the lion feels guilty about all the lambs he’s killed – great plan.’ Ana clicked the safety onto her pistol and shoved it in the back of her waistband. She pulled her throwing knives out of her case and began placing them in sheathes in her jacket._

_‘Yeah well, or you could distract him while I sneak in a shoot him from behind.’ Sofiya said absent-mindedly, loading icers into her own gun, checking the sightline before shoving it into her holster._

_‘See that sounds like a more plausible plan than making an ally with him, Sof. Lead with that next time, made me think you were off your rocker’ A laugh escaped Sofiya’s lips, a wild smirk spreading across her face._

_‘What made you think I was ever sane, B?’_

Ana watched apprehensively as Sofiya scaled the tree, looking between her and the dim light coming from the most dangerous man alive’s _safe_ house. Ana swallowed the lump that had begun to form in her throat, breathing deeply to slow the deafening sound of her heart racing in her ears. Sofiya chucked a pinecone that hit her square in the temple.

“oof,” raising a hand to her head, quickly looking for the nest Sofiya had made up in the tall tree. Sofiya, looking annoyed at Ana’s apparent dawdling, motioning her to go on to the house. Ana double checked for the presence of her gun before looking up once more and sending a nod up to Sofiya, who promptly returned it. A nod, simple, but always seemed to reassure either of them. It had become their thing, it seemed to mean a lot of different things all at once – you can do this, I believe in you, I have your back, I love you… and it always seemed to center Ana and bring her back to her training. She swiftly began making her way to the cabin, maneuvering around the several layers of traps that had been set for just this reason. She picked a lock on one of the windows, and quietly slipped in, arming herself with her gun. She surveryed the room, everything seemed to have a thick blanket of dust over it, undisturbed for quite some time, except one area by the front door. One kitchen chair seems to have been moved, tracks on the floor through the dust, and her eyes met with some files placed on the table. Definitely new – not covered by any amount of dust, but definitely crumpled. She slowly spins the file closer to her, and her heart completely stopped when she read the name on the tab. She picked it up off the table, bringing it closer to her face – her brain not believing what her eyes were telling it.

_James Buchanan Barnes, Prisoner A31012_

She traced his name, her ears ringing and the whole world seeming to stand still. She forces herself to open the file and read as quickly as she could, knowing full well that the Winter Soldier could kill her at any moment, but she was fine with that as long as she had her answers.

_‘MIA. That’s all we get Steve? MISSING in action?’ Ana yelled through her tears as he sat in their front room with her. He returned home for his funeral, said that his sister and aunt deserved that._

_‘It’s an empty box Steve, it’s not him. He’s not getting laid to rest – you’re just giving everyone an out to move on without him, to forget him.’ She continued, pacing the length of the room. Steve could barely look up from the cup of tea he held in his hands._

_‘I destroyed myself looking for him, Ana, I spent days in that forest, I spent weeks following leads. His aunt requested that –‘_

_‘That we give up?! How could you be okay with that. They’re going to stop looking now, Steve, how could you-‘_

_The mug in his hand shattered, and Ana jumped slightly at the sudden anger escaping her once mousey friend. She still hasn’t gotten used to his soldier façade, and definitely not used to his ability to break glassware in his bare hands. She quickly shut her mouth, unable to finish her sentence._

_Steve’s hands were still shaking, so he put them together, resting his elbows on his thighs. His voice seemed quieter now, more defeated than he had before._

_‘I will never stop looking for him Ana,’ he let out a sigh before looking up at her, eyes hopeful – ‘and you should know if he is alive… he will find his way back to you.’_

The front page seemed to yellow from age, mixture of type-written and handwritten notes.

_Name: James Buchanan Barnes_

_DOB: March 10, 1917_

_Status: Prisoner, captured September 21, 1943._

 Ana squinted at the page, confusion flooding her. That was 2 years before he went missing.. her eyes quickly skimmed to the end of the page where there were more notes that were handwritten

_Status Update: Captain America – as he called himself, released all prisoners. Zola requests the return of prisoner 031012 for possible further testing and enrollment into project legacy._

Ana smiled at the mention of Steve, and at the thought of Steve for once saving Bucky’s ass. However her heart sunk at the request to return him to hydra, and the thickness of the file confirmed her fears that they had been successful. She quickly flipped through the pages, mostly pictures, doctors records, field notes, she couldn’t stay on those for too long, the images and description of the torture he endured. From what she could gather he had been captured following the fall from the train, which was the last Steve had seen from him. He had survived as both she and Steve hoped – he had been badly injured, and lost his arm, but seemed to make a full recovery, only to be tortured for months. Her heart sunk when she reached the last page, which was a brief letter from the doctor who had been writing all the previous medical records.

_Zola,_

_PL031012 has been administered the last round of injections and cranial electro-stimulation. I am pleased to tell you that this patient, formerly James Barnes, is extinct._

_Hail Hydra_

She felt the tears begin to burn the corners of her eyes, as everything inside of her began to scream. She threw down the file onto the table, fisting her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut as she began to scold herself, to curse Steve, the whole military for giving up on him. He was alive, for months, being tortured, and everyone had moved on without him. She looked down at the file, now strewn about on the table, and slammed her fist down, cracking the solid oak top.

 

“ANA MOVE” Ana spun to see Sofiya standing in the doorway of the abandoned cabin, gun armed and aimed just behind her. She slowly turned her head to see a shadowy figure standing there, and an outline of a gun aimed square at the back of her head. Ana ducked quickly, hearing Sofiya’s gun shot go off, and the sound of a bullet piercing layers of clothing. Ana looked up, the figure unmoved by the icer bullet that Sofiya had shot off, but she could see his brows furrow in anger at being shot at, and it what was probably a split second shifted his aim to Sofiya and pulled the trigger. Ana jumped up in what felt like slow motion to pull her out of the way, but she reached her too late. Ana lay there with Sofiya’s limp body beneath her, and she began to sob. She heard the assassin quickly move out the back door, Ana hearing footsteps of people surrounding the place, following by many sequential gunshots, followed by a thud in the snow. She was then pulled off of Sofiya, and handcuffed – not that she was putting up much of a fight. The tears had stopped, but the world still seemed to be in a haze to her as she was put in the back of a van, Sofiya’s body loaded next to her and haphazardly covered by a blanket. She didn’t bother to ask who her captors were, or where they were taking them. As far as Ana was concerned, she was just hoping they would kill her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay! I got a puppy and between that and work I've been swaaamped. I also had this chapter written one way, and then had an epiphany and decided to go a completely different direction.
> 
> DOONT HATE ME
> 
> I love you guys!  
> Kudos/Comments keep me writing!  
> <3


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